Note: The following is taken for educational purposes from the book
Black Elk Speaks, by John G. Neihardt (New York: Washington Square Press,
1972), originally published in 1932. The book is Neihardt's recreation in
English of the oral history that Black Elk, a medicine man (or "shaman," of the
Oglala Sioux Indians, recounted for him in the Sioux language in 1931.

[page 6] 2 Early Boyhood

I am a Lakota of the Ogalala band. My father's name was Black Elk, and his
father before him bore the name, and the father of his father, so that I am the
fourth to bear it. He was a medicine man and so were several of his brothers.
Also, he and the great Crazy Horse's father were cousins, having the same
grandfather. My mother's name was White Cow Sees; her father was called
Refuse-to-Go, and her mother, Plenty Eagle Feathers. I can remember my mother's
mother and her father. My father's father was killed by the Pawnees when I was
too little to know, and his mother, Red Eagle Woman,died soon after. I was born
in the Moon of the Popping Trees (December) on the Little Powder River in the
Winter When the Four Crows Were Killed (1863), and I was three years old when my
father's right leg was broken in the Battle of the Hundred Slain. 1 From that
wound he limped until the day he died, which was about the time when Big Foot's
band was butchered on Wounded Knee (1890). He is buried here in these hills. I
can remember that Winter of the Hundred Slain as a man may remember some bad
dream he dreamed when he was little, but I can not tell just how much I heard
when I was bigger and how much I understood when I was little. It is like some
fearful

[page 7]

thing in a fog, for it was a time when everything seemed troubled and afraid.
I had never seen a Wasichu then, and did not know what one looked like; but
every one was saying that the Wasichus were coming and that they were going to
take our country and rub us all out and that we should all have to die fighting.
It was the Wasichus who got rubbed out in that battle, and all the people were
talking about it for a long while; but a hundred Wasichus was not much if there
were others and others without number where those came from. I remember once
that I asked my grandfather about this. I said: "When the scouts come back from
seeing the prairie full of bison somewhere, the people say the Wasichus are
coming; and when strange men are coming to kill us all, they say the Wasichus
are coming. What does it mean?" And he said, "That they are many." When I was
older, I learned what the fighting was about that winter and the next summer. Up
on the Madison Fork the Wasichus had found much of the yellow metal that they
worship and that makes them crazy, and they wanted to have a road up through our
country to the place where the yellow metal was; but my people did not want the
road. It would scare the bison and make them go away, and also it would let the
other Wasichus come in like a river. They told us that they wanted only to use a
little land, as much as a wagon would take between the wheels; but our people
knew better. And when you look about you now, you can see what it was they
wanted. Once we were happy in our own country and we were seldom hungry, for
then the two-leggeds and the four-leggeds lived to-

[page 8]

gether like relatives, and there was plenty for them and for us. But the
Wasichus came, and they have made little islands for us and other little islands
for the four-leggeds, and always these islands are becoming smaller, for around
them surges the gnawing flood of the Wasichu; and it is dirty with lies and
greed. A long time ago my father told me what his father told him, that there
was once a Lakota holy man, called Drinks Water, who dreamed what was to be; and
this was long before the coming of the Wasichus. He dreamed that the four-leggeds
were going back into the earth and that a strange race had woven a spider's web
all around the Lakotas. And he said: "When this happens, you shall live in
square gray houses, in a barren land, and beside those square gray houses you
shall starve." They say he went back to Mother Earth soon after he saw this
vision, and it was sorrow that killed him. You can look about you now and see
that he meant these dirt-roofed houses we are living in, and that all the rest
was true. Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking. And so when the soldiers came
and built themselves a town of logs there on the Piney Fork of the Powder, my
people knew they meant to have their road and take our country and maybe kill us
all when they were strong enough. Crazy Horse was only about 19 years old then,
and Red Cloud was still our great chief. In the Moon of the Changing Season
(October) he called together all the scattered bands of the Lakota for a big
council on the Powder River, and when we went on the warpath against the
soldiers, a horseback could ride through our villages from sunrise until the day
was above his head, so far did our camp stretch along the valley of the river;
for many of our friends, the Shyela and the Blue Clouds, had come to help us
fight.

[page 9]

And it was about when the bitten moon was delayed (last quarter) in the Time
of the Popping Trees when the hundred were rubbed out. My friend, Fire Thunder
here, who is older than I, was in that fight and he can tell you how it was.

Fire Thunder Speaks: I was 16 years old when this happened , and after the
big council on the Powder we had moved over to the Tongue River where we were
camping at the mouth of Peno Creek. There were many of us there. Red Cloud was
over all of us, but the chief of our band was Big Road. We started out on
horseback just about sunrise, riding up the creek toward the soldiers' town on
the Piney, for we were going to attack it. The sun was about half way up when we
stopped at the place where the Wasichu's road came down a steep, narrow ridge
and crossed the creek. It was a good place to fight, so we sent some men ahead
to coax the soldiers out. While they were gone, we divided into two parts and
hid in the gullies on both sides of the ridge and waited. After a long while we
heard a shot up over the hill, and we knew the soldiers were coming. So we held
the noses of our ponies that they might not whinny at the soldiers' horses. Soon
we saw our men coming back, and some of them were walking and leading their
horses, so that the soldiers would think they were worn out. Then the men we had
sent ahead came running down the road between us, and the soldiers on horseback
followed, shooting. When they came to the flat at the bottom of the hill, the
fighting began all at once. I had a sorrel horse, and just as I was going to get
on him, the soldiers turned around and began to fight their way back up the
hill. I had a six-shooter that I had traded for, and also a bow and arrows. When
the soldiers started back, I held my sorrel with one hand and began killing them
with the

[page 10]

six-shooter, for they came close to me. There were many bullets, but there
were more arrows--so many that it was like a cloud of grasshoppers all above and
around the soldiers; and our people, shooting across, hit each other. They
soldiers were falling all the while they were fighting back up the hill, and
their horses got loose. Many of our people chased the horses, but I was not
after horses; I was after Wasichus. When the soldiers got on top, there were not
many of them left and they had no place to hide. They were fighting hard. We
were told to crawl up on them, and we did. When we were close, someone yelled:
"Let us go! This is a good day to die. Think of the helpless ones at home!" Then
we all cried, " Hoka hey!" and rushed at them. I was young then and quick on my
feet, and I was one of the first to get in among the soldiers. They got up and
fought very hard until not one of them was alive. They had a dog with them, and
he started back up the road for the soldiers' town, howling as he ran. He was
the only one left. I did not shoot at him because he looked too sweet; 5 but
many did shoot, and he died full of arrows. So there was nobody left of the
soldiers. Dead men and horses and wounded Indians were scattered all the way up
the hill, and their blood was frozen, for a storm had come up and it was very
cold and getting colder all the time. We left all the dead lying there, for the
ground was solid, and we picked up our wounded and started back; but we lost
most of them before we reached our camp at the mouth of the Peno. There was a
big blizzard that night; and some of the wounded who did not die on the way,
died after we got home. This was the time when Black Elk's father had his leg
broken.

[page 11]

Black Elk Continues: I am quite sure that I remember the time when my father
came home with a broken leg that he got from killing so many Wasichus, and it
seems that I can remember all about the battle too, but I think I could not. It
must be the fear that I remember most. All this time I was not allowed to play
very far away from our tepee, and my mother would say, "If you are not good the
Wasichus will get you." We must have broken camp at the mouth of the Peno soon
after the battle, for I can remember my father lying on a pony drag with bison
robes all around him, like a baby, and my mother riding the pony. The snow was
deep and it was very cold, and I remember sitting in another pony drag beside my
father and mother, all wrapped up in fur. We were going away from where the
soldiers were, and I do not know where we went, but it was west. It was a hungry
winter, for the deep snow made it hard to find the elk; and also many of the
people went snowblind. We wandered a long time, and some of the bands got lost
from each other. Then at last we were camping in the woods beside a creek
somewhere, and the hunters came back with meat. I think it was this same winter
when a medicine man, by the name of Creeping, went around among the people
curing snowblinds. He would put snow upon their eyes, and after he had sung a
certain sacred song that he had heard in a dream, he would blow on the backs of
their heads and they would see again, so I have heard. It was about the
dragonfly that he sang, for that was where he got his power, they say. When it
was summer again we were camping on the Rosebud, and I did not feel so much
afraid, because the Wasichus seemed farther away and there was peace there in
the valley and there

[page 12]

was plenty of meat. But all the boys from five or six years up were playing
war. The little boys would gather together from the different bands of the tribe
and fight each other with mud balls that they threw with willow sticks. And the
big boys played the game called Throwing-Them-Off-Their-Horses, which is a
battle all but the killing; and sometimes they got hurt. The horsebacks from the
different bands would line up and charge upon each other, yelling; and when the
ponies came together on the run, they would rear and flounder and scream in a
big dust, and the riders would seize each other, wrestling until one side had
lost all its men, for those who fell upon the ground were counted dead. When I
was older, I, too, often played this game. We were always naked when we played
it, just as warriors are when they go into battle if it is not too cold, because
they are swifter without clothes. Once I fell off on my back right in the middle
of a bed of prickly pears, and it took my mother a long while to pick all the
stickers out of me. I was still too little to play war that summer, but I can
remember watching the other boys, and I thought that when we all grew up and
were big together, maybe we could kill all the Wasichus or drive them far away
from our country. It was in the Moon When the Cherries Turn Black (August) that
all the people were talking again about a battle, and our warriors came back
with many wounded. It was The Attacking of the Wagons, 6 and it made me afraid
again, for we did not win that battle as we did the other one, and there was
much mourning for the dead. Fire Thunder was in that fight too, and he can tell
you how it was that day.

[page 13]

Fire Thunder Speaks: It was very bad. There is a wide flat prairie with hills
around it, and in the middle of this the Wasichus had put the boxes of their
wagons in a circle, so that they could keep their mules there at night. There
were not many Wasichus, but they were lying behind the boxes and they shot
faster than they ever shot at us before. We thought it was some new medicine of
great power that they had, for they shot so fast that it was like tearing a
blanket. Afterwards I learned that it was because they had new guns that they
loaded from behind, and this was the first time they used these guns. 7 We came
on after sunrise. There were many, many of us, and we meant to ride right over
them and rub them out. But our ponies were afraid of the ring of fire the guns
of the Wasichus made, and would not go over. Our women were watching us from the
hills and we could hear them singing and mourning whenever the shooting stopped.
We tried hard, but we could not do it, and there were dead warriors and horses
piled all around the boxes and scattered over the plain. Then we left our horses
in a gulch and charged on foot, but it was like green grass withering in a fire.
So we picked up our wounded and went away. I do not know how many of our people
were killed, but there were very many. It was bad.

Black Elk Continues: I do not remember where we camped that winter but it
must have been a time of peace and of plenty to eat.

Standing Bear Speaks: I am four years older than Black Elk, and he and I have
been good friends since boyhood. I know it was on the Powder that

[page 14]

we camped where there were many cottonwood trees. Ponies like to eat the bark
of these trees and it is good for them. That was the winter when High Shirt's
mother was killed by a big tree that fell on her tepee. It was a very windy
night and there were noises that 'woke me, and then I heard that an old woman
had been killed, and it was High Shirt's mother.

Black Elk Continues: I was four years old then, and I think it must have been
the next summer that I first heard the voices. It was a happy summer and nothing
was afraid, because in the Moon When the Ponies Shed (May) word came from the
Wasichus that there would be peace and that they would not use the road any more
and that all the soldiers would go away. The soldiers did go away and their
towns were torn down; and in the Moon of Falling Leaves (November), they made a
treaty with Red Cloud that said our country would be ours as long as grass
should grow and water flow. You can see that it is not the grass and the water
that have forgotten. Maybe it was not this summer when I first heard the voices,
but I think it was, because I know it was before I played with bows and arrows
or rode a horse, and I was out playing alone when I heard them. It was like
somebody calling me, and I thought it was my mother, but there was nobody there.
This happened more than once, and always made me afraid, so that I ran home. It
was when I was five years old that my Grandfather made me a bow and some arrows.
The grass was young and I was horseback. A thunder storm was coming from where
the sun goes down, and just as I was riding into the woods along a creek, there
was a kingbird sitting on a limb. This was not a dream, it hap-

[page 15]

pened. And I was going to shoot at the kingbird with the bow my Grandfather
made, when the bird spoke and said: "The clouds all over are one-sided." Perhaps
it meant that all the clouds were looking at me. And then it said: "Listen! A
voice is calling you!" Then I looked up at the clouds, and two men were coming
there, headfirst like arrows slanting down; and as they came, they sang a sacred
song and the thunder was like drumming. I will sing it for you. The song and the
drumming were like this:

"Behold, a sacred voice is calling you; All over the sky a sacred voice is
calling."

I sat there gazing at them, and they were coming from the place where the
giant lives (north). But when they were very close to me, they wheeled about
toward where the sun goes down, and suddenly they were geese. Then they were
gone, and the rain came with a big wind and a roaring. I did not tell this
vision to any one. I liked to think about it, but I was afraid to tell it.